


Coquettish

by gryffindormischief



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: Harry and Ginny make their marriage work with two things: love and endless teasing.





	1. It starts with a challenge

**Author's Note:**

> So the plan is for this to be a 3-shot with a running gag (that will soon become clear) between Harry and Ginny. Its a little silly, but I hope you all will enjoy. Based on a prompt!

Ginny's fingers scratched subtle shapes on Harry's back through the scratchy fabric of his dress uniform as she fought the urge to snuggle into his arm. Harry lifted his nearly emptied glass of firewhisky to his lips, ice cubes clinking together as he nodded at the ministry official whose name she'd failed to remember.

It wasn't deliberate rudeness, simply the result of meeting an endless stream of witches and wizards attending the latest in a recent string of social "mixers" thrown by various ministry departments in an effort to create community between wizard and muggle governments. Events that had mandatory attendance for all employees barring hospitalization or death…a bar Harry had _attempted_ to get Ginny to help him meet by bat bogeying him into the next century.

Despite her confidence that hexing Harry senseless was not the best way to celebrate their recent nuptials, she felt guilty for refusing, and volunteered to attend with him whenever possible; a promise that was made worse after a two week separation dictated by her away games with the Harpies.

As the man, _Dan_ apparently, moved away to mingle with more colleagues, Harry lead out a low, wheeze of a groan, eyes darting around as he leaned toward Ginny's ear to murmur, "Bet you're wishing you'd just incapacitated me like I asked."

He pulled back, offering a casual nod to some faceless person across the room as he shepherded Ginny over to the bar for another pair of firewhiskys. Leaning against the temporary bar, the folds of her deep blue cocktail dress floating around her calves, Ginny stirred her drink with the slim red straw, "Right, because nobody, including Kingsley and Robards, would have caught on that you just so happened to become deathly ill every time one of these _things_ sprung up."

"We could've done every other time."

Ginny scoffed, rolling her eyes before nudging Harry and subtly gesturing to a couple making their way toward the soon to be Potters with a gleam in their eyes that promised at least a half an hour before faking a loo emergency might get them a temporary reprieve, maybe…Harry had been _followed_ into the loo last time. They'd seen this type before, and the only way to escape was to never _start_ the conversation in the first place.

Clenching his jaw, Harry tugged Ginny's half empty glass from her hand, placing it alongside his on the waxy dark wood bar next to a handful of muggle money. Without discussion, he slid his hand into hers and tugged her around the outskirts of the crowd, eventually weaving and bobbing through the clusters of chatter and toward the exit, Ginny's heels clacking loudly as the floor shifted from tightly woven green and beige carpet to the smooth white and black speckled marble that covered the common areas of the swanky hotel hosting this month's event.

"Smooth moves there Potter. I like it. It's like _dark_ Harry."

Harry shushed her, as they neared the lifts, receiving a mutinous but silent glare in response, "We've got a very small window of opportunity Weasley." Pushing the button lift button repeatedly, Harry sighed, "And it's not _dark_ Harry its _Auror_ Harry."

"Sure. And that's _Potter_ to you."

"Don't be like that or I'll keep you out of the lift and scream as the doors close to draw the attention of every boring bureaucrat in this building comes running," Harry threatened, pointing his finger in her face menacingly.

Ginny stepped into the lift as the doors opened, tilting her head to invite him to join her, "Does that count as loving, honoring or cherishing me? I can't decide." Shooting a quick look down the still abandoned corridor, silent but for the low din of co-workers partaking in chitchat and hors d'oeuvres mixed with non-descript instrumental ballads and the rumble of thunder from outside, Harry darted inside, his wife pressing the 'door close' button repeatedly.

Once they were safely cocooned behind the copper doors, Harry dropped back against the corner of the lift, handrails pinching his back as he tugged Ginny toward him, tucking his head over her shoulder as he brushed aside tendrils that escape from her upswept hair.

The couple stayed in comfortable silence, fingers entwined over Ginny's middle, wedding bands glinting in the dim light as the lift descended toward street level, where they would apparate back to their flat to spend an evening _reacquainting_ themselves after their forced separation.

Suddenly, the lift jolted, Harry gripping Ginny's waist to keep her from tumbling forward as the car finally stopped moving completely and the lights flickered, but thankfully remained on. Harry's head dropped back against the cherry wood wall with a thud, as he moaned, "Is it so much to ask that I get to spend the night with my wife."

Ginny twisted around in his arms, forehead pressed to his chest, "Technically you are still spending the night with me. Although we can't exactly sha-"

Harry slipped one hand over her mouth, eyeing the corners of the lift suspiciously, "I'm not entirely positive these things aren't monitored."

"I think muggles know that word too Harry."

Dipping his head to concede the point, Harry's fingers ran up and down her bare back exposed by the deep scoop of her robes, "Can we sit? My feet ache."

"Of course, little baby," Ginny scoffed playfully, hitching her skirt up and plopping on the floor with a shocking level of grace, legs extended and crossed at the ankles.

Harry sighed as his eyes took in the sight of her slim, toned legs and slid down next to her, still slightly gangly limbs awkward in the tight space, "So. What do we do in here?"

"Well we could start by alerting someone that we're stuck."

Nodding, he leaned over toward the collection of buttons that littered the wall next to the automatic doors, cautiously pressing a red one labeled with a bell, which disappointingly did not produce the sound he expected was intended.

The lights flickered again as Harry was settling back down, "I guess alerting someone is out of the range of possibility."

Ginny snuggled into his side, lifting his arm so it wrapped around her shoulders, "Well at least if the lights go out, we can do _whatever_ we want in here and no one can _see_."

Harry flicked her nose but pulled her closer, "How about something more…I spy."

"I think you're just making things up because I'm your old hag of a wife now," Ginny sniffed, turning her head away dramatically.

"If you only knew the dirty, dirty thoughts I was having when you-"

Cutting him off with a finger to his lips, Ginny leaned close, breath fanning across his cheek as she murmured, "If you really want to keep this child friendly, I suggest you not continue that sentence."

With a squeak he would later deny, Harry ground out, "I spy with my little eye something black."

And so the game began, and continued for just over a quarter of an hour before the young Mrs Potter growled, "There are only four colors in here."

"What about _us_ then?" Harry tried, sounding unconvinced himself.

"Ok, so ten," Ginny allowed, tugging pins from her hair haphazardly.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"We'll just sit in silence," Harry resolved loftily, sliding his fingers through her hair for purely helpful reasons with absolutely no copious sniffing.

Moaning as she pulled a particularly large pin from her hair, scratching at the sore spot Ginny asked, "Since when are our only options 'I spy' or complete silence. Have we run out of things to say?"

Harry lifted her to sit between his legs, absentmindedly massaging her tense shoulders pressing his lips to the crown of her head, "I've never been good under pressure."

Ginny scoffed tucking her handful of pins into her purse carelessly, "I believe a currently un-oppressed wizarding world would beg to differ."

Bending his knees up to frame her hips, Harry reached forward to loosen the laces on his meticulously polished dress shoes, "I meant in _social_ situations."

"Oh. Well that's true," Ginny allowed easily, crunching on a dinner mint she'd found at the bottom of her bag. _When was this from? Before the wedding? We didn't go anywhere fancy while we were…bloody hell I am going to die from a mint._

"You're supposed to argue with me," Harry grumbled, pulling the crinkly red paper from her fidgeting fingers, "And the mint was from that charity event with the Harpies so you're not going to die in an elevator from mint poisoning."

Twisting around, Ginny stuck her tongue out, and deciding she didn't want to know _how_ he knew what she was thinking, she let that subject drop in favor of the former, "You want me to lie?"

"I hate you."

"Such _lovely_ sweet nothings you whisper," Ginny drawled, as she offered him a months old piece of Droobles, which he eyed dubiously but accepted nonetheless.

Harry chewed thoughtfully, jaw working the stale gum with some effort, "I can do sweet nothings."

Ginny barked out a laugh, "No. You can't."

"Uh, I think you'll find I _can_ ," Harry asserted, legs sliding back out, his charcoal pants rucking up slightly around his ankles and exposing snitch patterned socks in the process.

"Well as one of your two romantic conquests I beg to differ. Shall we call the other?"

Harry huffed out a laugh, "I thought you didn't want to discuss 'the Cho years'."

Ginny tilted her head back and delivered a sweltering glare. Thoroughly intimidated, Harry laid a quick kiss on the tip of her freckled nose, "Don't worry dear, my love for you burns like a dying phoenix."

"Are you _trying_ to prove my point?" Ginny snickered, pressing her lips to his before snuggling back down.

"Your smile, dearest Ginevra, is like _expelliarmus_. Simple but disarming."

Pulling her knees up, Ginny let her head drop forward and groaned, voice muffled by the silken fabric of her dress, "How did you land me?"

Harry pushed her hair over one shoulder and pressed affectionate kisses down the nape of her neck, "I have three words for you: fresh, pickled, toad."

The sharp spark of competition shot through Ginny's eyes as she extricated herself from her husband's embrace, disregarding his grunt of disapproval, and sat across from him, staring deeply into his eyes, "Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

"You've used that one before."

"It's a classic," Ginny defended, rummaging through her purse once again as the lights dimmed even more, a faint yellow glow remaining.

Harry accepted the proffered chocolate frog, raising a questioning eyebrow but otherwise letting the issue drop as he bit in to the melty sweet, "I must be a snowflake, because I'm falling for you."

Ginny's face scrunched in distaste as she crunched the after dinner mint between pearly teeth that shone dim emergency lights of the lift, "Did you survive an _Avada Kedavra_? Because you're drop dead gorgeous."

Smirking, Harry leaned forward, hands planted on the slick tile floor framing her hips, "Clever one, Weasley-"

" _Potter_ ," Ginny corrected with a quirked brow.

Slowly, he began placing breathy kisses along her jawline, "Your lips," he nuzzled her cheek, "look so," a kiss to her temple, "lonely," Ginny sighed as he dragged his mouth back to hers, "Would they like to meet-"

Ginny's hands speared through his perpetually messy locks, tugging his mouth to hers as they awkwardly slumped back against the wall, lips remaining locked together.

Chest heaving, face stained with Ginny's lipstick, and tie haphazardly yanked loose, Harry pulled away just barely, "I win right? This means I w-"

With a growl and a flirty smirk she moved to yank him back toward her by his tie, until the grin he _intended_ to be sultry dropped from his face as he shifted to sit next to her, "Did you hear that?"

Before she could answer, the doors slid apart, revealing a slip of light and a distressed trio of faces, that seemed to include a stress mussed hotel manager, a woman from maintenance, and Dan, from the ministry, "I _told_ you. They got lost. Harry and I are too close for him to leave without saying goodbye."

The woman, _Hilda_ if Harry could trust her name tag, raised her brows in disbelief as Dan went on bemoaning the dangers of relying on electricity and the need to save his 'best friend Harry' from certain death.

Chivalrously, Harry boosted Ginny through the gap, accepting the hands up offered from Hilda and the manager as he followed. After expressing their gratitude and learning the entire _building_ had lost power from the storm, the couple begged off returning to the party citing tiredness from 'emotional upheaval.' Once they were outside and well away from Dan's overbearing concern, Ginny let her hand drop from its dramatic perch on her forehead, leaning into Harry's arm comfortably, "I actually am a little knackered."

Harry's hand came up to brush against hers as he pulled her into the designated apparition area, "I told you, next time just rough me up a little. Much easier."

"Or I could just not come," Ginny retorted, both of them knowing full well how hollow that threat truly was.

"Sorry, 'til death do us part," Harry laughed, pulling her fully into his arms as he whisked them away to a silent, empty flat. _Where we can continue our escapades from the lift…_

Ginny slipped her arms around his neck, lips meeting his in a blistering, if short, kiss, "So I just have to take you out and I'm free?"

"If it gets me out of these mixers I'll let you do whatever you want dear."

Discarding her strappy heels, eyes never leaving his, Ginny rose on her toes and breathed into his ear, " _Anything?_ "


	2. It's like a forced vacation, with shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry struggles to sync his and Ginny's schedules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 3 woo! As always, thank you for reading, commenting, and sending kudos! Any pick up line suggestions for next time will be considered! (Also, in case anyone forgot, I don't own these babies)

The non-magical injuries ward of St Mungo's was disconcertingly silent once visiting hours ended; only the quiet squeak of the healers' sensible shoes and the occasional squeak of wheels broke the monotonous hush. Harry fought the instinct to tighten his grip on Ginny's still hand, contenting himself with a brush of his thumb across the trio of freckles sprayed over her knuckles he'd memorized a thousand times over, an action that likely comforted him more than his currently unconscious wife.

Pushing his glasses up into his wild hair with a free hand, he massaged the bridge of his nose and expelled a stress filled breath through his nose, his shoulders tight with tension and hours spent perched in the torture device known as hospital chairs. Somewhere down the ward, a repetitive beep sounded, followed by a small stampede of quickly moving healers, alerted to a new arrival in the emergency holding area.

Harry threw caution to the wind and released Ginny's hand, brushing a kiss across her cool forehead, where he could still smell her heady aroma, a mix of her flowery scent and the exertion of a Quidditch game. They'd played that afternoon, the Harpies, and Harry had almost missed it. Ron's bout of the flu meant he'd been out sick for the last week and a half, leaving Harry partnered with a shockingly inept trainee, which meant each case took longer than when he worked _alone_. Fighting the urge to snap at Reynolds for the last ten days had used up most of Harry's patience; this coupled with the fact that he was missing Ginny's _semi final_ game meant he'd been rather _testy_ with everyone in the office. Bad for morale, but good for Harry, who had gotten what he wanted, minus arriving just in time to see his young bride get sideswiped by one of Falmouth's chasers and plummet from her broom.

Her grasping fingers had just missed the handle as a bludger swept in from down the field. Harry shot forward, sliding his wand from its holster before remembering the extensive wards that prevented spells from reaching the pitch. After much shouting and a quick _sonorous_ Harry had managed to get the snarling referee to notice Ginny's fall. Luckily, a few quick spells slowed her descent, but not enough to avoid the sickening crack of bones and Ginny's shallow breathing.

After nearly decking a security guard, Harry stumbled onto the field, tuning out the screaming crowd and the play by play offered by the tinny voiced announcers, mind solely focused on his wife's inert form and the sickening angle of her arm.

Harry scrunched his eyes closed, standing and turning his back to the bed and rubbing his face tiredly, trying to block out the memory of the sight of Ginny lying broken and bloodied on the pitch. A few well-placed growls had ensured no one prevented him from following her stretcher, or tried to evict him from his vigil once visiting hours had ended nearly three hours earlier.

With a grunt, Harry released the first three brushed copper buttons on his robes and slipped them over his head, nearly taking his glasses with them. Lack of sleep and copious amounts of stress meant a few choice swears left his lips before a throat cleared behind him, "Come here often Potter?"

Tossing his robes to his recently abandoned chair, Harry strode the few steps it took to bring him to Ginny's side, voice gravely with emotion, "Oh thank God."

He winced when his move to sit on the edge of the mattress jarred the bed, his eyes darting as if looking for some new injury, "Did it hurt?"

The fading purple around Ginny's right eye crinkled as she smirked, "When I fell from heaven?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, " _No_. When I bumped into your previously shattered forearm and _magnificently_ bruised thigh."

Ginny patted his hand, breathing deeply as if testing out her newly healed ribs, before running practiced fingers through her matted locks. Her face scrunched as she found the veritable rats nest at the back of her head and dropped back onto her pillow, "Oh. What did the healer say?

Before Harry had a chance to reply, Ginny tugged him forward by the collar of his white t-shirt, "Maybe that I'm lacking vitamin U?"

Wriggling free of her surprisingly strong grip, Harry pressed his lips to her fingertips affectionately, "Dear, you're _definitely_ hopped up on pain potions."

"I'm just intoxicated by you, babe," Ginny drawled, finally poking his shoulder successfully on her third attempt.

" _Babe_?"

"Don't try and distract from the fact that you are falling woefully behind on pick up lines, loser."

Harry responded to her endless shifting by flicking his wand at the adjustor on the bed, tilting her into a relaxed upright position, "Are you bananas? Because I'm falling for you."

Ginny quirked a brow questioningly, but accepted the line nonetheless, " _No_ , but if you were a fruit, you'd be a _fine_ apple."

"We're very fruit themed today," Harry chuckled, settling her hands in his lap comfortably.

The red head let out an answering laugh, cut off abruptly by her wince of pain, hands grabbing at her still tender ribs.

"Shite, Gin," Harry breathed, mentally considering alerting the staff sooner than he'd planned.

Waving him off, Ginny shifted again, "I'm all right, don't coddle me."

"Its not- I just- you-" Harry floundered, trying to choose the best way to say 'I thought the love of my life was going to die before my eyes less than six hours ago so I'm a little edgy' without sounding like a ponce.

"You seem lost, do you need a map to the end of that sentence?"

Sighing, Harry accepted that heavily medicated Ginny was not one for serious talk, and leaned forward, their faces a breath apart, "No, but I do need directions to your heart."

Ginny poked his nose, "Pretty impressive transition, Potter."

"Ta, Potter."

Harry brought his hand to her smiling face, thumb brushing along her cheekbone softly, "I was just going to say you really scared me."

"I'm surprised you were even there to see given the Reynolds situation," Ginny smirked, tilting her head into his hand.

A trio of healers strolled by the cracked door, shoes squeaking as they chatted about some fit bloke in records named Fabio. The couple shared grins before Harry cleared his throat, expression solemn, "I'm sorry."

"I know."

"It's a lame excuse though," Harry muttered, fiddling with his wedding band, eyes downcast.

Pressing her palms into the scratchy blankets layered across her lap, Ginny leaned forward, tilting his chin up with scabbed over knuckles, "You're here now, when it matters."

Both stayed silent for a moment, Harry wondering how he's gotten so lucky, and Ginny contemplating how much trouble she'd get in for snogging her husband in a hospital bed, before Harry spoke, avoiding eye contact, "Yeah well, I'm going to be 'here' for a while."

Jarred from her reverie involving a locked door and making full use of the adjustable bed and a serious lack of clothing on _both_ their parts, Ginny turned her attention a depressingly fully clothed Harry, "What?"

Harry ran his palms down his trousers nervously, "Like maybe a week?"

"Why?"

In an attempt to delay long enough to gather his legendary Gryffindor courage, Harry stretched over the bed, pouring ice chips into one of the disposable cups and crunching a mouthful loudly. Unimpressed, Ginny folded her arms across her chest, momentarily distracted from her evasive husband by the ache radiating through her sternum, until she turned her heated gaze toward him once more.

Harry shrugged, letting out a nervous chuckle, "That _is_ what tends to happen when you shout at your boss about missing your wife's semi final game."


	3. The last straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There may finally be a 'winner' of the game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of 3 as promised! I have no doubt that in my little Hinny universe the game continues after this, but I think this glimpse will end here. Hopefully this a fun one! I actually had this idea first, but I wanted these in chronological order. Thanks to all who suggested lines! Let me know what you think!

Tucked away in the corner table at a wedding in a similar position to one he'd assumed years ago, hair a false red, the weight of the world on his still young shoulders, was Harry Potter. Years had passed now, more than a decade, and he was a husband and father, which lead to his much more enjoyable company, one Ginny Potter née Weasley who was currently ducked beneath the table, loosening the buckles on her strappy heels. Harry's eyes traveled over the exposed expanse of her back, smatterings of freckles in little imitations of constellations he'd taken to naming; a hobby Ginny teased him for, but the twinkle in her eye belied her true feelings on the matter.

Slowly, carefully, she straightened from beneath the table, lifting her tired feet into his lap, hidden by the pale purple table cloths that covered the small flock of round tables laden with the remains of fancy finger foods, empty cake plates, and copious glasses of half drunk champagne, used for the many toasts offered throughout the evening.

Harry reached up and tugged his tie loose, releasing the top button on his muggle dress shirt, "I don't care if Petunia and Vernon rankle me about it, I can't take this noose any longer."

Ginny snickers, wriggling her feet in his lap, silently entreating him to deliver on his promise for endless foot massages, an essential part of their private wedding vows exchanged across mussed pillows with breathy laughs in the quiet of their dimly lit hotel room the night after they married. This long into their marriage, she still held him to his word, just as he did once a month when he gazed longingly at her recipe for treacle tart, sometimes going so far as to line the ingredients round the bench top in the kitchen in an attempt to force her hand. Which Harry felt was reasonable given the number of times she'd simply plopped her tired feet in his lap or across his chest as he lounged in their flat, or now cottage, and prodded him until he serviced her.

Absentmindedly, but still with expertise, Harry let his deft hands slip beneath the table, slowly working the soles of her feet, her tense toes, and slightly swollen ankles as she bit back a moan. _Wouldn't want to give any wrong ideas, eh. The look on Petunia's face might just be worth it_.

"It would be," Ginny answered what he had thought was an internal question, "But we still shouldn't."

She pushed her still full champagne toward the gaudy lilac and daffodil centerpieces, eying the flower girl and ring bearer dancing clumsily as the photographer chased them around with a hulking camera, "I miss James a bit."

Harry hummed, "Me too. It's nice to have a night off, but this thing is so bloody _boring_."

Ginny snickered, poking a finger into her slicked hair, readjusting the copious number of pins Hermione had jammed into her scalp by the feel of it, "His tendency toward accidental magic recently _would_ make things exciting."

Eyeing her wince, Harry tilted his head toward her, "I'm fairly certain if you took out all those pins your hair would stay up."

Groaning, she slumped lower in her chair, "I won't be taking that bet dear. This is the last time I let Hermione at me with Sleakeazy's."

"Cursing my Grandfather's invention, eh?" Harry asked with a smirk, switching to her left foot.

Toes cracking as she wiggled them playfully, Ginny subtly gestured with her chin toward the cash bar where Dudley's best man was currently chatting up a perky looking blonde bridesmaid swathed in reams of yellow taffeta, "Reckon he'll get anywhere with her?"

Harry snorted, "I've never really considered whether Piers would grow up to have game."

Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously as she connected the lumbering bloke spilling out of his rented tux jacket with the sporadic stories she'd wormed out of Harry over the years about his childhood among the muggles. Running her fingers over the flowing skirt of her silken pale green dress, Ginny forced herself to forgo the impulse to hex Piers until he was inside out and chose the intellectual side of revenge: immature mocking behind his back. "So what d'you suppose his opener was?"

Catching on, Harry furrowed his brow in exaggerated thought, "If you were a chicken, you'd be impeccable."

"Are you sure he knows that word?" Ginny inquired, munching on a half eaten breadstick.

"Impeccable?"

"Chicken."

Harry let out a brief but booming guffaw that drew the attention of some nearby revelers, but was luckily drowned out by the cheesy loved up ballads that are staples at most muggle weddings. Despite the disgruntled glares, Harry is unperturbed, "How about, 'Your body is 65% water and I'm thirsty.'"

Ginny shakes her head, pulling her feet down from his lap and scooting her chair closer, bare toes coming into contact with crumbs on the patterned carpet, prompting her to make a mental note to scrub herself thoroughly when they get back to the cottage. "You're going in the wrong direction dear. Your wooing technique is obviously too refined and educated."

Harry quirks a brow, inviting her to give it a try as he props one arm over the back of his chair, eyeing Ginny's untouched champagne before downing it in one gulp.

For a moment, she's caught up in the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows, eyes drifting to the small section of skin revealed by his unbuttoned shirt, his loosened tie, and rumpled hair, giving him the look of having been thoroughly snogged, which is rather enticing to a woman who makes it a habit of giving him that look as much as possible. Catching on to her train of thought, Harry attempts to wink, an action inhibited partially by his current level of inebriation, but largely the result of his complete inability to do anything more than blink his eyes slightly out of sync. _It's a good thing winking isn't my 'thing.'_

"Got any better, Weasley?"

Narrowing her eyes, she wriggles her ring laden left hand in front of his face but moves on, "He seems more like an 'I lost my teddy bear, can I sleep with you instead' kind of bloke."

"He probably ripped the head off the teddy bear."

"Got any wedding themed moves?"

Harry strokes his chin thoughtfully before leaning in close and whispering in her ear, "There's only one thing I want to change about you, and that's your last name."

"Smooth," Ginny chokes out breathlessly, internally smacking herself, _you're his bloody wife that line shouldn't work_. Gulping, she refuses to allow him a win and drags her nose along his jaw, "I was feeling a little off today," she tugs his earlobe with her teeth, winning a small gasp from his parted lips, "but you definitely turned me on."

She watches as he gulps again, his pulse thrumming as he breathes, "Are you using the _Confundus_ charm or are you just naturally mind blowing?"

The warm smell of his cologne mixed with his aftershave and that heady scent that's all his own sweeps around her in coaxing tendrils more effective than Amortentia as she grinds out, "Buggering hell, want to get out of here?"

As if he'd been waiting for her invitation Harry stands abruptly, hooking a finger through the straps of her shoes, tucking her small clutch into his coat pocket, and tugging her after him toward the exit. He offers Dudley a subtle wave, which the larger man returns, gesturing for Harry to call him, presumably after the honeymoon, and then they're outside the venue, cool summer air refreshing against heated skin.

Hastily, Harry glances around for an out of sight place to apparate, eventually settling on a small copse of trees in a small park tucked around the corner where they'd taken pictures with Dudley and his wife earlier. Once they're tucked away from prying eyes, he pauses, and Ginny briefly considers whether he's about to recreate some of their happy hours by the lake during her fifth year when he looks at her, a wicked smirk spreading across his mouth, "Oh my God. My line _worked_. I won."

Frustrated at the idea of losing and at the delay in… _proceedings_ , Ginny flicks his chest, "Lines don't count if you use them on your wife who's carrying your _child_."

They both freeze, Harry's jaw dropping open as Ginny's mind reviews the past few moments, attempting to determine whether she'd just announced their coming second child because she was bitter about losing a pick up line contest with her husband. She quickly forgets as Harry's hands come up to cup her head, thumbs running over her jaw reverently, " _Really_?"

She bites her lip, gripping his wrists and nods, still on the down stroke when suddenly their lips are meshed together, the metal of his wire frames cutting into her cheek familiarly as he ends the kiss somewhat messily, peppering her face with more kisses, emerald eyes glinting with unbridled happiness and hunger that mirror her own as she whispers, "Take me home Harry."


End file.
